


Children Of The Universe

by luceat_lux_vestra



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Non-Consensual Violence, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luceat_lux_vestra/pseuds/luceat_lux_vestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their babies will not be warlords.</p><p>They know who killed the world.</p><p>They are not things.</p><p>This is the story of the Five Wives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children Of The Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this one-shot right after seeing "Mad Max: Fury Road" several times and I just fell IN LOVE with the Wives (outside of Furiosa, Max, and Nux), so here's my humble attempt at spinning my own version of their backstories and the events that happened after the film.
> 
> This fic has triggers such as mentions of rape, particularly underage girls, and other non-con elements, so if you're not comfortable reading those things, I suggest you stay away from this one.
> 
> Work is unbetaed, so any and all mistakes in grammar and spelling are mine. Comments, kudos, and constructive crits are greatly appreciated! :)
> 
> And please, the Mad Max fandom needs more Fury Road-era fics! I know I'm not the only one wanting to read Capable/Nux stories!

* * *

 

You were nineteen when you were kidnapped and taken to the Citadel.

 

You were born to a small but peaceful tribe of scavenger nomads who stayed largely near places where there were sources of clean water. It wasn't an easy life, but you managed to make the most out of your humble roots and did what you could to survive and help your tribe without resorting to unnecessary violence. You were orphaned when you were twelve and when you became of age, you had found a loving partner in your tribe—a man named Zedriel—who was a few years older than you and was eager to start a family with someone of your peaceful and maternal disposition.

 

Your clan was en route to a remote desert outpost north of the Wasteland to barter goods when you were ambushed by a menacing group of men on monstrous vehicles.

 

You remembered very little else from that pivotal moment in your life other than the fact that there were loud explosions, the roar of engines, and the screams of your people trying to resist their attackers. You vaguely recall falling to the ground hard when one of the white-painted men threw pole bombs in your direction as you and your beloved betrothed went running to escape the attack.

 

After that, you knew nothing but darkness, even when you opened your eyes within the Citadel and gazed upon a grotesque masked figure looming above you and realized the unthinkable nightmare that your life would become.

 

* * *

 

You were seventeen when you were abducted and brought to the Citadel.

 

Unlike many other communities who were scattered throughout the Wasteland, you and your people eked out a hardscrabble living in the destroyed ruins of former cities far from the dangers of the desert wastes. Life was difficult, and there was very little of value in your derelict homeland apart from using the crumbling remains of buildings as makeshift shelters.

 

It was because of this very reason that many gangs and marauders of the Wasteland with malicious intentions didn't bother with pillaging your home. That is, until one night when everything changed. While you had largely forgotten where your place of origin is located, you will never forget the nightmarish things you saw on that fateful night you were taken.

 

It wasn't the fiery explosions that scared you. You shivered at the sight of an army of corporeal ghosts driving massive vehicles that rampaged through the rocky streets; their skin so deathly pale that they glowed in the gloom of night and the intermittent blinding flashes of exploding bombs.

 

Leading these eerie, spectral beings was a large man whose head looked as if it was an exposed, deformed skull. And try as you might, you knew from that moment that you were incapable of escaping his clutches the second the strange, ugly man noticed you with your vivid halo of flame-red curls and declared you as his "property".

 

* * *

 

You were sixteen when you were discovered cold and alone in the Wasteland between the Citadel and Gas Town

 

You had the misfortune to be born to a very violent family in Gas Town, a wretched place that preached the doctrines of their two ally townships that are the Bullet Farm and the Citadel. Where the rest of the people in your community bore weather-beaten skin and dirty hair indicative of a rough-and-tumble lifestyle, you stood out with your smooth, pale complexion and otherworldly white-blond tresses. In a more caring environment, you would have been heralded as an angel who came down to earth. But the world you grew up in was not a place of love and tolerance.

 

Rather than being treasured and protected for your uniqueness, you were constantly mocked and bullied by your peers. Even worse, your own family shunned and abused you when they saw exactly what kind of girl you looked like as you grew older. You did not share their filthy tanned skin or dishwater blond hair. They believed someone who looked like you had no place in a world filled with sweat, blood, and guzzoline.

 

You were frequently the subject of physical and emotional cruelty that over the years, you forgot your real name and were resigned to what your family and others have called you; an insult which emphasized your uncanny difference from everyone else.

 

_"You're such a fuckin' Dag! Useless fuckin' bitch!"_

_"Stay away from the Dag. She's a right nutcase, that one."_

_"Hey, look! It's the stupid Dag! Let's go beat that cunt up!"_

 

Rather than giving them all the satisfaction of killing yourself, you vowed to be a survivor and run away from Gas Town to seek a new haven elsewhere where you would be accepted for who you are.

 

A few days after you fled your wretched homeland on foot, you used up all of your meager supplies and was on the brink of passing out from hypothermia due to the intense cold of the desert night. Exhausted from your relentless trek, you collapsed from where you stood and remained unconscious until you were found by a small party of War Boys scouting the area surrounding the Citadel.

 

When you woke up days later, you found herself staring into the eyes of the White Devil himself and realized to your horror that you escaped your cruel cooking pot only to land in the flaming depths of Hell.

 

* * *

 

You were fourteen when you were dragged kicking and screaming into the Citadel.

 

Suffice to say, you were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Your family had just taken refuge in a quiet trading outpost many miles south of the Wasteland when a violent band of invaders had arrived to sack and pillage the small town. You can still recall your parents telling you to run as fast as you can to safety and to not look back.

 

But you refused to leave your family behind, but your mother and father were adamant that you save yourself from the men destroying the place they just moved into. You were about to follow their orders, but by then, it was too late. Your reluctance had cost you the lives of your parents and you were captured by the band of men whose heads were all shaved of hair and whose skin was slathered in a ghostly white powder.

 

Filled with rage, you screamed and clawed against your captors until you were forcibly gagged and restrained in order to keep you quiet. But even then, you wiggled and squirmed and recoiled whenever one of the white-skinned freaks tried to lay a hand on you.

 

Dumped in the back of a roaring car with a strange design, you were carted off for what seemed like hours until you caught a glimpse of towering rock formations topped with lush greenery. Still struggling against your kidnappers, you were led through a dizzying series of tunnels in one of the massive rock towers; going up and up and up until you were freed from your restraints and locked in a room where a giant man wearing a frightening mask stood before you.

 

And it was only then that your screams of fury and revenge had transformed into something else entirely: you were screaming in pain and misery.

 

* * *

 

Unlike the others, you were born right in the Citadel and was delivered to Immortan Joe's chambers when you turned thirteen.

 

You had the good luck of being born to a couple who were free of physical deformities that plagued the rest of the Citadel's citizens. However, they were not spared from the various diseases that stemmed from the inhospitable conditions and scarce edible resources of the Citadel's largely desert climate.

 

On the day that you were seven years of age, your parents had died, leaving you in the care of an elderly crone who helped raise you together with your mother and father.

 

You remember crying a lot in the months after your loving parents had died, but you were thankful that Miss Hilde took you in and sheltered you away from the gritty life within the Citadel. Outside of your tiny nook in the caves where some of the Wretched lived were War Boys and other dangerous men under Immortan Joe's command, and Miss Hilde warned you to never ever step outside unless you wanted to be harmed by those wicked men or worse: die in the way that your parents did because of frequent exposure to the toxic environment they lived in.

 

Children are always impressionable, and you took these words to heart because you did not want to disappoint or upset Miss Hilde by doing something that would get yourself hurt. But as with the downfall of most children, your life in the Citadel changed significantly for two reasons:

 

Curiosity and your body blossoming into adolescence.

 

Unaware that Miss Hilde had died while collecting water from underneath the Immortan's tower during your birthday, you spent that night crying and wondering where your guardian could be. When you still found yourself alone the next day and Miss Hilde nowhere in sight, you made the decision to step outside of the cave in order to search for her.

 

Although you were dressed in dirty and distressed rags fashioned into crude approximations of decent clothing like everyone else, you found it rather strange why a lot of people were staring at you so openly while you were frantically running around in the open looking for Miss Hilde. It wasn't until you felt someone roughly grab your arm that you realized you should have never left the cave as you were told to for you looked up to see a muscular giant of a man drag you into the direction of Immortan Joe's tower.

 

Despite screaming for anyone to help you, you knew that you were in big trouble because the Wretched in your vicinity could do nothing but cower in fear given that you were with the Immortan's son himself, Rictus Erectus.

 

By the end of that day, after the Immortan was done with you and declared you to be "fragile" but worthy of becoming one of his breeding stock, you cried yourself to sleep and deeply regretted that you stepped foot outside the safety of your cave.

 

* * *

 

Many beautiful women have come and gone over the years in the service of providing a healthy male heir to Immortan Joe, but only the five of you remained and survived all the others and attained the distinction as the Immortan's most prized "breeders" valued for your exceptional beauty and resilient physical health.

 

The Splendid Angharad. Capable. The Dag. Toast the Knowing. Cheedo the Fragile.

 

You are the Five Wives.

 

And you all have one other thing that the Immortan failed to see underneath your precious assets:

 

The unyielding will to reclaim your dignity and freedom.

 

* * *

 

When you heard through the grapevine that Furiosa was promoted as one of Joe's trusted Imperators, you immediately rallied the other Wives and informed them of your plan.

 

Toast looked at you with a determined gleam in her eyes and immediately gave her approval and Capable, being your best friend, was also supportive. The Dag nodded in agreement after weighing her options, but Cheedo looked at you and the others with fear in her eyes.

 

You were already in the second month of your pregnancy at this time, and you gently took Fragile's hands into yours and you reassured her with a ferocious look in your eyes and whispered your mantra to remind your youngest sister that the life inside your luxurious stone prison is not worth living.

 

"We are _not_ things..."

 

Bursting into tears, Cheedo hugged you with her slender arms and buried her face against your swelling bosom. You soothed her until she was able to calm down. Wiping her eyes, Cheedo gazed upon the other women and simply nodded her head, earning her wide smiles from her comrades.

 

"We are _not_ things, we are _not_ things..."

 

In unison, you all held hands and repeated your mantra over and over like a prayer, like a magic spell from the many books you all have read that would release you from your life of sexual slavery and deliver all five of you to a place far away from the vile hands of Immortan Joe.

 

* * *

 

You returned to the Citadel after making the usual supply run to Gas Town and Bullet Farm while fending off attacking marauders from east of the Wasteland.

 

Joe commended you for another job well done and you were told that there would be food, water, and mother's milk waiting for you in your private chambers.

 

Inclining your head in gratitude, you made your way to your room several levels below the Immortan's personal lair and you were surprised to see Miss Giddy waiting for you.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

Miss Giddy approached you and placed a folded slip of paper in your right hand. The old woman put a finger to her lips, indicating that what she gave you should be kept in absolute confidence. Before you could ask her any further questions, Miss Giddy hurriedly left your room and disappeared in the darkness of the tower's labyrinth of passageways.

 

Looking down at the mysterious bit of paper that was given to you, you frowned and sat down on your bed and unfolded it to reveal a letter.

 

After reading the entirety of the message, you pressed your lips in a grim line and knew exactly what you had to do.

 

* * *

 

_"Miss Giddy, would it be possible for you to get us some white paint?"_

_"Whatever for, child?"_

_"We have one last thing we need to do before we make our escape..."_

 

* * *

 

As far as betrayals went, this one was surely for the ages.

 

That freak sandstorm turned out to be a blessing for it slowed down Joe and his army and gave all of you a decent head start your quest for freedom.

 

The moment the sandstorm died down, Furiosa stopped the War Rig and told you all to clean yourselves as quickly as you can while she inspected the vehicle for any damages so that you'll be on the move once again and reach the Green Place of Many Mothers as soon as possible. Grateful for the reprieve, you all filed out from the backseat, taking a large pile of white fabric from the War Rig's cabin that Miss Giddy gave to you all before your escape.

 

Furiosa rummaged in her utility box and reached for a giant pair of bolt cutters and tossed them to you, which you awkwardly managed to catch in your hands.

 

"Get those things off from you and the others before we go," Furiosa said, indicating the chastity belts covering your private area and that of your other sisters.

 

For a few minutes, you all felt a strange, soothing calm envelop you the second you were able to quench your thirst with cold water and wash all the dust and sand from your hair and bodies. Furiosa paid you and your sisters no mind as you were busy removing the genital cages and fashioning clothes out of the dirty white fabric while the rogue Imperator was tinkering around her Rig.

 

And then you saw the mysterious man with the muzzle appear from behind the truck, carrying a knocked-out War Boy on his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, the mysterious man was not one of Joe's minions seeing as how he was helping Furiosa defend the War Rig from the Bikers.

 

But just when you thought they were in the clear, Immortan Joe's monster truck, the Gigahorse, came speeding after the War Rig; the demented masked warlord intent on reclaiming his stolen property.

 

Refusing to allow your escape to be thwarted, you immediately sprung into action despite your body already beginning to show signs of labor.

 

And it would be your truly splendid act of heroism that would allow your sisters to drive free... at the cost of your own life and that of your child.

 

* * *

 

Even though you were prevented from running back to Joe, you were still inconsolable in the wake of Angharad's death.

 

You spent a large part of the mostly uneventful drive to the Green Place being comforted by Capable or The Dag. Cuddled in the safety of their embraces, you remembered how much Angharad had done for you ever since you became one of Joe’s most favored breeders.

 

Joe was not a gentle man when he took any one of you to be fucked, and you did not earn your moniker of “Fragile” for nothing. It was because of this that whenever the Immortan was in the mood to break you in—his precious Fragile—for a night, Angharad would immediately intervene and insist he take her instead; arguing that since she was his most favorite, she would be able to please him more. More often than not, Joe could never deny his Splendid Angharad. You are grateful that your eldest sister was always smart enough to play to the Immortan's vanity in order to spare you from harm.

 

It always pained you to let Splendid take the fall for you most of the time and you never failed to tearfully apologize the minute Angharad returned from Joe’s chambers often looking the worse for wear.

 

But Angharad—ever the sweet, gentle, kind, compassionate, and loving maternal creature that she is—told you time and again that you had no reason to ask her for forgiveness. She only did what she had to do to protect you from reaching the point where you would finally break and they would not be able to put you back together.

 

It was only when you finally met Furiosa’s clan of independent biker women that you realized you would not allow Splendid’s immense sacrifice to go in vain.

 

You would do whatever it takes to survive now; even it means that you would have to die as a free woman rather than living a sheltered life as an abused piece of meat for a wicked man’s pleasure.

 

* * *

  
  
You had lost your best friend, the one person who was there for you after you were brought to the Citadel.

 

And a small part of you felt guilty for not grabbing Angharad back in the cabin of the Rig right after the two of you cut the chain that freed the man who fought along with Furiosa.

 

You were right there next to her.

 

You should have taken her hand and pulled her back in the Rig's cabin to safety.

 

You felt you should have been the one who died instead of Angharad.

 

You tried to stifle your tears but your emotions got the better of you. You cried silently against Nux’s shoulder, making sure your head did not go anywhere near Larry and Barry so that the twin tumors would not aggravate the man next to you.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing. It’s just… I miss Angharad _so much_. She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

 

Nux didn’t know how to respond to that given the part that he played when the Immortan’s favorite Wife met her demise. All he could do was put his arm around you and tried his best to comfort you while you mourned the passing of someone very important in your life.

 

The two of you were once again back in the Rig’s watchtower, huddled together as you both sat in peaceful silence gazing at the stars that flooded the desert sky. After a few minutes of watching the glimmering lights that shone far above them, Nux spoke once more.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I would like to think she earned her place in Valhalla.”

 

You sat up straight, wiped your eyes, and looked at Nux with a flash of anger in your eyes.

 

“No. That is where Joe wanted you and everyone else he commands to go when you die. Angharad deserves something better.”

 

Nux looked rueful at your words, and a small part of you felt bad that you made this naive young man frown.

 

“You’re right. I doubt that she’d like being surrounded by War Boys all shiny and chrome. Where do you suppose she is now?”

 

You pondered that interesting question for a moment and remembered this one book Miss Giddy had said you should read. It spoke of the afterlife and how different cultures around the world perceived what that eternal place for all human souls would be like. You looked up at the stars once more and smiled, leaning your head against Nux and feeling much better than you were earlier.

 

“Heaven. My best friend is now in Heaven…”

 

* * *

 

You always tell yourself that aren't like the other Wives.

 

You are tough and resilient and you always fought back every time the Immortan wanted to fuck you. Though you received bruises for your constant insolence, you wore them like badges of honor. You didn’t want your sisters to think that you would be so easily broken.

 

But now that Angharad was dead, you felt an unsettling sense of frailty that hadn’t surfaced since the first time Joe had raped you.

 

You remembered how, in the early days of your captivity, Splendid was the only person patient and strong enough to confront you during your emotional rages. You would squirm and push her away, but Angharad—headstrong to a fault—refused to let you go until she calmed down. The other Wives never dared to touch you in your most volatile moments after Joe was through with you, but Splendid was fearless. Above all, Angharad would always repeat the same words that you felt was inapplicable for someone like you.

 

_“Never be afraid to cry, Toast. Crying doesn’t mean that you are weak. Think of your tears as something that will cleanse the emotional filth inside of you and allow something to emerge that will make you stronger.”_

 

Though you had always deferred to Splendid’s wisdom (much like your fellow Wives) considering she was the first and eldest of you all, those words were the only piece of advice that you subconsciously refused to listen to. Instead, you developed a hard shell around your heart so that you could withstand whatever physical or sexual abuse Joe would inflict upon your body; and for many years, that shell had served you well.

 

But sitting in the silence of the vast desert at night, you felt the regret sink much deeper into your broken soul than your grief.

 

And so it was that you allowed herself to cry in the presence of your sisters, Furiosa, the War Boy who betrayed his Immortan, the Vuvalini, and the mysterious man who refused to reveal his name.

 

You didn’t care.

 

You most certainly could not give a fuck.

 

You are going to have a good, long cry throughout the night because Angharad was right, as she always was.

 

Your tears will be the fuel that you need to survive this hell on earth.

 

* * *

 

For once in her life, you felt adrift at the loss of the one person who you had come to rely on as your steady anchor in life.

 

You had fears about the future knowing that are still pregnant with Joe’s child. Besides Angharad, you are the only one among the surviving Wives confirmed to be having a baby and at one point during your serene drive to rendezvous with the Many Mothers, you had even considered aborting the fetus so you wouldn’t have to deal with a living thing that reminded you of your worst nightmares.

 

But it was the sight of those seeds protected inside a large leather bag kept by the Seed Keeper of the Vuvalini that made you rethink her choice.

 

Though you knew plants existed in the Citadel, you and your fellow sisters rarely caught a glimpse of them since you were mostly locked away in the Dome's vault. Nevertheless, you had read whatever books were available that talked about plants, flowers, trees—anything that grew from the ground and represented fertility and proof that this world was once a clean and verdant place.

 

But in this Wasteland where the violence and greed of evil men reigned supreme, bullets had taken the place of the very things that gave Earth life. And you would never forget what Splendid had told you about those metal cartridges with disdainful vehemence.

 

_“Anti-seeds have no place in this world, Dag. You plant one, and you know something will die instead of letting something grow and flourish.”_

 

Her words always sounded so profound to your ears, and they would be the one thing that you would deeply miss about Angharad. The eldest of the Wives was also the first person who accepted your eccentric behavior and never judged you for being different; nor did she patronize you whenever you had those moments where you felt your senses were on overload. Even though you had always known nothing but malice at the hands of so many people in your life, Splendid emerged as a loving force of nature that allowed you to feel that there was always hope and kindness in a world where everything seemed to be drowned in despair and brutality.

 

You gently caressed your stomach and resolved to keep the child and love it unconditionally, regardless of whether it will be a boy or a girl. You are adamant that if the baby was a girl, you would name it after Splendid. And if the child within her was a boy… well, you would have to ask the name of the silent man who fought Furiosa at first, but in the end, revealed himself to be someone to be trusted with your life. You wanted her boy to be named after the mysterious stranger who helped save you life and that of your sisters.

 

You looked down and observed your slender fingers covered in tattoos.

 

You smiled.

 

When all of this was over, you would add a new symbol to your esoteric collection—a symbolic tattoo to honor the Splendid Angharad.

 

* * *

 

To your surprise and that and the Four Wives, Max returned not long after he left the Citadel, and he brought back the bodies of Angharad and Nux that he dutifully fished out of the smoking wreckage left on the Fury Road.

 

“They both deserve a proper burial. It’s the only way you will all get closure after what happened.”

 

The Wives surrounded him in a grateful embrace filled with tears but Max took it in stride and shared a meaningful look with you, who simply stood a small distance away and nodded your head with unshed tears in your eyes.

 

* * *

 

You and your sisters decided to bury Angharad and Nux in one of the rock tower gardens—the one that housed the waterfall mechanism—overlooking the Citadel.

 

Toast took it upon herself to carve out decent headstones for their graves. She scavenged the Citadel until she found two perfect slabs of flat stone that she carried all the way up to the tower where you and the others now live without the presence of Joe and his minions.

 

Cheedo gathered all the personal effects that held sentimental value to Splendid so it would be buried along with her: a favorite storybook, a small jar filled with dried flowers, a lovely drawing of the five of you which you proudly made, and a copper ring given to her by the one man she had ever loved before she was taken by Joe.

 

Capable went to the chambers of the War Pups and the surviving War Boys and asked them to give her the best steering wheel they had (shiny and chrome, of course) and requested that they remove the Immortan’s flaming skull ornament on the car part. She obviously refused to have something of Joe’s to be buried along with Nux.

 

Meanwhile, you fished out a small glass vial of seeds from your leather bag and discovered that they were helianthus seeds. You smiled and pressed your lips against the glass container as you recited a whispered prayer of gratitude, absolution, and remembrance. You thought it fitting and poetic that Angharad and Nux would be reborn into this world as tall and beautiful sunflowers thriving in a desert oasis.

 

All of the Wretched in the Citadel held a public gathering mourning the loss of the Splendid Angharad and the courageous little War Boy who defied the Immortan Joe, but the private funeral was attended only by you, your fellow Wives, Furiosa, and Max.

 

It was a somber affair, and your sisters couldn’t help but cry—Capable, most especially—as Max and Furiosa started to cover Angharad and Nux’s bodies with earth. When it was over, you all placed your arms around one other in comfort and gazed solemnly at the two graves.

 

All of you felt the beginnings of serenity now that your brave and beautiful comrades were finally laid to rest in peace.

 

You have survived, and you will live on to honor the memory of their sacrifice.

**Author's Note:**

> I also made a mixtape on 8tracks inspired by the Five Wives.
> 
> You can check it out and listen to the mix by clicking [**here**](http://8tracks.com/brentofthefabulouswild/we-are-not-things).


End file.
